


Need

by AnnetheCatDetective



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Dom Crowley, Established Relationship, M/M, Phone Sex, Post-Canon, Sub Aziraphale, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 16:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19066420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnetheCatDetective/pseuds/AnnetheCatDetective
Summary: With the world un-ended, and a little grace period to take advantage of, Crowley and Aziraphale have finally sorted thing out, snatched a little happiness, and settled down.Well... perhaps 'settled down' isn't quite the right word for it...There's nothing very 'settled down' about some of the ideas Crowley has, after all.





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> For the bottom!Aziraphale crowd on discord, for getting me writing... so much, actually.

    “Close the blinds.”

 

    Crowley’s voice is soft and low, it commands him somehow… Oh, he has a more commanding tone, but he hardly needs it, to command Aziraphale. No, not when there’s such lovely dark promise… not when he has a voice like black velvet, like smoke, words that slither straight to Aziraphale’s libido.

 

    He’s only had a steadily active libido some… seventy-odd years, before that it wasn’t something he could count on, it certainly wasn’t strong when he felt hints of it-- he’d always thought of it as some not-terrible side effect of inhabiting a nearly-human vessel long enough. You’d get the odd tingle now and then. Rarely was it convenient, but then, rarely was it powerful.

 

    “All right, all right, give me a minute.”

 

    “Close up, lock the door. Are you at your desk?”

 

    “Mm, I will be once I’ve locked up.”

 

    “Miracle it. I don’t want to wait.” Crowley says, and this time… it’s not even that he’s trying to be _commanding_ , it’s that he’s breathless, almost desperate. Aziraphale performs the miracle without thinking about it, sitting at his desk.

 

    “It’s done. What is it?”

 

    “Ohh, angel, I’m thinking about you…”

 

    “And?” He presses. That hardly seems a reason for him to close up shop and _draw the blinds_. Even if he might have been embarrassed to speak his feelings freely with customers milling about, the blinds seem an unnecessary precaution for a telephone conversation.

 

    “Are you thinking about me?” Crowley asks.

 

    “Oh, often.” Aziraphale smiles. “Your place or mine tonight?”

 

    “I can’t wait for tonight.” He growls-- growls!-- and suddenly Aziraphale is rather glad the blinds are all drawn. He shouldn’t like anyone peering in at the look on his face…

 

    “Would you like to come over now?” He swallows. That would be a good reason to lock up… though he might have told him to head up to his flat to meet him if he’d wanted a… personal rendezvous. That is where Aziraphale owns a bed, even if he never much used it before. It’s not as nice a bed as Crowley’s, but then it’s a much smaller flat. They normally stay at Crowley’s and Crowley gives him lifts to and from work, now… well, now.

 

    “Oh, I’m in _no_ fit state to travel, angel. I’m really not.”

 

    _Oh_. So that, Aziraphale surmises, is why the blinds are drawn.

 

    “Crowley, I can’t-- Why don’t you call me back upstairs, or I’ll call you?”

 

    “But I want you at your desk. I’m at my desk.”

 

    _Oh!_

 

    He’s pushed back from it, of course, oh, Aziraphale can see it in his mind’s eye. He’s in his throne-- which Aziraphale had called ostentatious, once, and which he has since gained a certain appreciation of-- with his legs spread… palming at himself? Drawing himself out? No-- stroking himself already, he can hear the faint slap of skin on skin. He can feel his own corporation reacting…

 

    “Crowley, I _can’t_ …” He repeats, but he doesn’t…

 

    He doesn’t safeword. He doesn’t hang up. His free hand creeps towards his fly, though he notices and stalls it.

 

    “I want you… Aziraphale, I wish I was with you right now, the things I’d _do_ to you.”

 

    “You could be. You could be here.” Aziraphale says, a little breathy. How had things spiraled out of his control so quickly? His libido has certainly been far more active since he and Crowley started _providing it an outlet_ , but it’s never come on so strong so fast before… well, not without Crowley touching him.

 

    “Mm, can’t concentrate to travel, I got stuck in a daydream… and now I can’t do anything at all until I come, but it’s not enough if I can’t hear you… I want to hear you, all those lovely noises you make. What are you... wearing?”

 

    There’s a chuckle on that last word that lets Aziraphale know Crowley _isn’t_ talking about his clothes.

 

    “The usual.” He coughs, face heating. “It, er… just _happened_.”

 

    “Angel!” And he can hear the grin, can picture it easily, Crowley’s surprise and delight at knowing Aziraphale had spontaneously manifested his prick-- it had sprung into existence half-hard, in fact, which is uncomfortable, but not uncomfortable enough to deter…

 

    “Oh, hush, you wicked thing!”

 

    “My fault, is it? Not your fault, of course. No, he’s just responding to his master’s voice, is he?”

 

    The blush deepens. “I hardly think that’s… That is to say!”

 

    “Unless you often have him just _happen_ to you at work.”

 

    “Certainly not!” Aziraphale sputters. “My… _that_ does not happen to me at work, and it’s not a ‘he’, it’s just… it’s just…”

 

    “Just? Just for _me_?”

 

    “Just for you. If you’ll come and do something about it.”

 

    “Oh, I will… in due time. Come and kiss you-- kiss you first, you like that. You like that thing I do with my tongue.”

 

    “I like many things you do with your tongue.” He says, rapidly losing whatever cool he might once have possessed. He has to undo his trousers, the pressure is too much. He tries not to touch himself, but he can’t bear not freeing it…

 

    He likes the way Crowley kisses him when he wants to dizzy and claim him, when he wants him pliant and aroused… two things Aziraphale is happy to be, and the way Crowley teases at the roof of his mouth is nice. The way his tongue sometimes lengthens and forks, and when the kiss breaks, he’ll slide it along Aziraphale’s jaw to tease at an earlobe, and it should be… not sexy. It should be strange, or off-putting, that long, demonic tongue wetly hugging the side of his face, but it never fails to make him _want_. He likes the way it flicks at his throat, scenting him, teasing him, the way it works over love bites…

 

    Crowley can, with some focus, undo shirt buttons with it, though he doesn’t usually. When he does, though…

 

    He likes when Crowley relaxes the effort it takes to keep his tongue human-- though even human, it is… a little long, a little dexterous. But he likes… he likes the thing that tongue can do to him, dancing over his torso, lapping at him, laving at him… And when it becomes snakelike, the things that little fork in it does to him! The teasing Crowley will give his nipples, the ticklish spots he finds…

 

    He likes when Crowley goes down on him, very much. There is the usual, of course, his prick, how eagerly Crowley wants to drink the taste of him the moment he begins leaking fluid, how he can wrap his tongue around him so well… Although he’s experimented, just the one time-- well, he’d kept it through several rounds, as it happened-- with making an effort in the opposite direction, and Crowley had _devoured_ him, licked into him, teased him out, tasted him, the things that tongue had _done_ …

 

    And the things that tongue has done inside him even… without that particular bit of anatomy. He’s already aching to be filled, just thinking about it…

 

    “What would you have me do if I were with you?” Crowley asks.

 

    “Oh-- I just… You could have me.”

 

    “Right there in your shop?”

 

    “I… Yes. Is that what you want?”

 

    “Because you can’t wait to get me upstairs?” Crowley presses.

 

    “No, I can’t wait. Oh, Crowley, you could _be_ here! You could have me, you could have me, if you were here, I wouldn’t say no, not to anything.”

 

    “You wouldn’t say no to me bending you over your desk?”

 

    Aziraphale’s hand wraps around his aching prick.

 

    “And having me?”

 

    “Mm… maybe. Getting a good eyeful first. _That arse_ … giving you a good spanking.”

 

    “What for?” He demands, in the injured tone he uses when he’s not injured at all.

 

    “We’ll come up with a reason, we always do. However you want to play it. I can punish you for being naughty… or I can torment you for not being naughty enough. You know I’m _flexible_.”

 

    “Hrk.” Aziraphale says.

 

    “Mm, that’s what I thought you’d say. I could deny you, of course… spread you out like a banquet and have a taste, and then… not.”

 

    “Oh, Crowley, you wouldn’t! Not if you were here!” He protests.

 

    “If I wanted to, you know what I _could_ do. I could tell you to keep your hands planted right there on the desk, and I’d sit back in your chair, and you could only _listen_.” Crowley teases, and then the sound of his hand ceases, and the sound of his voice ceases, and a new and highly arousing set of sounds commences.

 

    He can hear the wet _pop_ as Crowley pulls off of himself, a lascivious, louder-than-it-needs-to-be sound as he licks his lips…

 

    “Crowley…”

 

    “But I won’t, will I? No, you’re far, far tastier… much more satisfying. Talk to me, love, even my tongue’s not enough if you don’t talk.”

 

    Aziraphale’s hips jerk up at that, the sound he makes has Crowley chuckling, warm and dark in his ear.

 

    “Oh, Crowley, Crowley, you’d be good to me if you were here, you would be… wouldn’t you be? I do need you, I do want you. And it’s-- it’s not _enough_! I-- it’s not what I _need_ , sitting here and touching myself, and-- and-- I do need you, I do want you, right here, right here in my shop, on-- on my desk if you like!”

 

    “Ohh, I do like…” Crowley sighs, a sound _dripping_ with lust. “I’d bend you over that desk and I’d give you what you need… all you have to do is tell me what you need, really tell me, it’s yours if you tell me. Use your words for me, you’re so good with words, oh, honey…”

 

    Aziraphale bucks into his hand again, whimpering this time. “I need _you_. Soon, preferably.”

 

    “The sooner you can describe it to me, the sooner I can finish, the sooner I can be right there with you.”

 

    “I do want you to-- I want you to be rough with me.” He admits. His whole body is a-tingle saying it, he can hardly admit half of what it is he needs, really needs. “To… to take me at my desk. To… to put me down on it and… and to have-- have your pleasure of me.”

 

    “You can do better than that… How will I take you? How rough will I be? Will I sweep your things to the floor?”

 

    “N-no, not that, we… I’ll clear them if you like, just-- But--”

 

    “Will I slam you down against it, so you squeak and wail and beg for me to be gentler with you? Or will I take you firmly by the back of the neck and guide you, show you just how I want you positioned and expect you to hold where I place you?”

 

    “Oh yes… I mean-- yes, the-- the second, I think. How-- how will you want me?”

 

    “Your chest and your cheek down against the desk. And your hands, flat. And your legs _spread_ , that delicious arse waiting for me…”

 

    “ _Oh_ yes… and then you’ll have me?”

 

    “Mm, not yet… no, I like to play with you first, you know that…” Crowley says, and it’s like a finger stroking down his spine. “Just a few swats, just enough to raise some pink to the skin. Do _love_ it when you’re pink, angel. ‘S like biting into a _peach_.”

 

    He might squeak, just a little. He needs to be played with. He needs to be _bitten_. It’s so frustrating to be here, with nothing but his own hand, and Crowley’s voice is almost a touch, almost, but it’s not enough to fill him…

 

    “I ache for you, Crowley. I need you.” He squirms. “I-- I want you to do those things. S-spank me, _bite_ me, please bite me, Crowley, come bite me now, taste me, have me…”

 

    He can hear the way Crowley’s breathing has changed, the little barely-voiced groan, a hiss of pleasure…

 

    “Have you? Tell me how I should have you...”

 

    “I’m so _empty_ , Crowley, I can’t-- I can’t--” He swallows. Has he ever been so hard, and so unsatisfied? Has his face ever burned so? “I cannot… find _completion_ without you.”

 

    The answering groan makes him feel he almost could-- for a moment he thinks he might, on the strength of it.

 

    “Tell me what you need, what you really need…”

 

    “To be full with you, I need to be full with you!” He says, feels like the words have been pulled from him, that Crowley has reached down the line and drawn them out of him. “I’m so empty, and I can’t _finish_ if you don’t come and fill me!”

 

    "Why don't you play with your toys, then, angel?" Crowley coos, and there’s another delightfully wet and fleshy sound from his end.

 

    "They're _upstairs_." Aziraphale whines, squirming in his seat again. And even if they weren’t… they’re not what he craves now, what he’s craved since Crowley’s voice first wrapped itself around him, thick with desires…

 

    "Could summon one to hand if you wanted."

 

    "It's not the same, and you know it! I want _you_."

 

    "Want me? _Need_ me? And what do you need me to do for you that you can't do with some fun toys and the sound of my voice?"

 

    “It’s not the _same_ if I spank myself… even if you tell me to, it’s not the same. I can hardly bite myself! Not where it counts. I-- and I want you to _kiss_ me!” His breath hitches.

 

    “Oh, oh, _Aziraphale_. Oh, of course I’ll come and kiss you. Soon, love, soon… take me there so I can _concentrate_ and I’ll be right there, I’ll kiss you…”

 

    “I need you.” He tries to calm himself, draws a ragged breath. “I _want_ you… I want you to-- to _use_ me, for your pleasure.”

 

    “Gentle? Rough?”

 

    “However you like. I’m yours, you know I am, I’m all yours.” He shakes his head, feeling on the verge of a sob. He can’t possibly give himself _enough_ , and he’s sick of trying when Crowley could make it good for him so easily…

 

    “Are you mine?” Crowley sounds on the verge, at least… “I’m going to spread you open and _tongue_ you until your legs give out, is that what you want? I’m going to fit half my hand inside you, how about that? I’m going to _spoil_ you? That’s it, isn’t it? That’s really it… you want me to do all the work, while you reap all the reward…”

 

    “I want you to take _care_ of me.” He answers, plaintive. “I _can’t_ take care of myself!”

 

    “Pillow principality.” Crowley snorts.

 

    “That sounds very rude. _Please_ , Crowley, I-- I want you, I must be had by you…”

 

    “It’s not rude if it’s true. You love it when I do all the work. You… oh-- _Aziraphale_ \-- you love when I take care of you, yeah? You… you really need me to? You have to have me?”

 

    “ _Yes_!” And he does sob, just the once.

 

    “ _Why_?”

 

    “Because only you _know_ me, you know my body so well, and you… and you know _me_ , all of me, you-- _lover_ , you know me… so well I couldn’t… I couldn’t even know myself as you know me. And I _love_ you, I love you, nothing is enough without you, I love you so _badly_ …”

 

    The noise Crowley makes into the phone is not quite like any noise he’s ever made before. There’s a long pause after, marked just by his breathing.

 

    “I don’t know…” He says, and Aziraphale can see the smile he must have, weak and punch drunk and sweet. “I think you love me well. Aziraphale?”

 

    He whines, softly.

 

    “Leave the line open, just a mo-- are you all right, love?”

 

    “Yes…”

 

    “Close your eyes. And if you don’t miracle anything you’re wearing back into the wardrobe, I _will_ tear them off you when I get there.”

 

    Aziraphale closes his eyes. He does as he’s been told.

 

    The receiver is placed back into its cradle with a click, and a familiar cool hand touches his cheek.

 

    “I’m here now…” Crowley says, and Aziraphale leans into him with a sigh. The lark’s on the wing, the snail is on the thorn, and Crowley is with him...


End file.
